


Walking on Broken Glass

by papesdontsellthemselves



Series: His Beach AU [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol, Bad at tagging, Beaches, Mentions of Cancer, Tears, Vomiting, big sad, its the prequel to His Beach, those were jus some warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:44:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papesdontsellthemselves/pseuds/papesdontsellthemselves
Summary: prequel to His Beach





	Walking on Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> tw for some alcohol, mentions of cancer, and vomiting

The ocean breeze blew softly over the coast, cooling down the air almost imperceptibly. It was overcast, clouds looming low and grey on the horizon, causing the water to appear darker than usual. Waves were crashing with a rigor that might seem threatening to some.  
But to others, it was calming; welcoming.  
Spot’s eyes followed Race’s figure fondly as he stood at the water’s edge, jeans rolled up haphazardly, crumpling at the bottoms of his calves. His hands were in his pocket as he watched the water pool around his ankles, splashing up and dampening the fabric of his jeans, leaving sandy residue in its wake.  
Spot watched as he lifted his head, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he looked out towards the sea. Although Spot could only see half his face, the awe that glimmered in his eyes was noticeable.  
Race turned his head, making eye contact with Spot. He smiled, snapping out of whatever trance the ocean had instilled upon him and trudging through the sand to join him.  
“Thanks for bringing me here,” Spot said as Race sat down next to him, drawing his knees up to his chest and casually draping his arms around his legs.  
He leaned his head on Spot’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything. The breeze turned into a small wind and Race looked up, eyes scanning the sky as it darkened.  
“It’s gonna rain soon,” Race murmured. He crossed his arms at his chest, pulling his sleeves down further as he started to shiver.  
Spot wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to his own chest.  
“Five more minutes.”  
XXX  
“Shit,” Albert hissed, lifting his arms level to his shoulders involuntarily as water lapped around his waist, sending goosebumps up his stomach and to his chest.  
“Pussy,” Race smirked as he bobbed above the surface, usually curly hair sticking to his forehead.   
“You look like an egg,” Albert retaliated, reaching out to muss up Race’s hair, only to be yanked down by his forearm. He yelped, barely remembering to take a breath before he was engulfed by the cold waves. He floundered for a moment before planting his feet on the sand and standing back up, glaring at Race as he emerged.  
Race was cackling, doubled over as Albert made his way over to him.  
“Now who’s the egg- oh fuck,” Race’s eyes widened as Albert tackled him down, submerging them both. The wrestled for a moment under the water, limbs banging aimlessly together until they pushed themselves up again, gulping in air.  
They waded to the water’s edge, flopping down simultaneously and rolling on their backs. Albert could feel the waves brush up against his feet, some more prominent than others. It was as though every time a wave struggled to reach him, it would come back stronger the next time to prove its strength.   
The sun was strong, blinding the two of them as they stared at the sky. Albert distantly wondered if he should reapply sunscreen, but quickly abandoned the thought in favor of the moment.   
They were alone in this small alcove, separated from any popular portions of the beach. Albert wasn’t entirely sure how Race had found this area, nor was he sure how he managed to keep it vacant, but he decided not to question it.  
A strange sense of secrecy surrounded the area. It was special in a way that Albert couldn’t quite place. A giddy sense of entitlement coursed through his veins at the thought of being one of the only people that had access to this tranquil corner of the world.  
“Oh,” Race exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. Albert lifted his head and watched as he scrambled to his bag, only to return a moment later with a small plastic bag.  
“Here,” Race opened the bag, extracting a small, sky blue bracelet. A small charm with the letter ‘A’ was attached to the string at one end, and as Albert took it in his hand, he discovered that the bracelet was waxy, making it waterproof. He glanced over to see Race taking another bracelet out of the bag and fastening it around his own wrist. Albert reached over, carefully turning over Race’s arm. Race’s bracelet was white with an ‘R’ embellished into the charm and Albert felt a small smile spread across his face.  
Race took Albert’s bracelet from where he was dangling it from his pointer finger and carefully fastened it around his wrist.  
“I know that they’re kinda cheesy,” Race admitted, ears turning red as Albert pulled back his arm, pressing it against Race’s in favor of looking at the bracelets side by side, “But I saw them at one of those little beach stands a couple miles down,” he trailed off running an idle finger over the charms, “Couldn’t pass it up.”  
Albert felt an overwhelming sense of love for his best friend fill up his chest, pressing against his ribs and knocking the air out of his lungs, “I love them.”  
XXX  
Three boys sat watching the sunset. Smoke billowed around them as they took careless drags of their cigarettes, only to be swept away by the occasional gust of wind.   
The sunset was magnificent. Bold reds and soft yellows surrounded the cirrus clouds, creating a pleasant orange glow that seemed to swallow up the universe. The water was uncharacteristically calm. Waves rippled continuously, but never grew extraordinary in their size.  
It was beautiful, picturesque, almost as though a painter were seamlessly guiding his brush along the horizon and dripping his paint in the water.  
But something was off. Wrong.  
No one had spoken yet. They’d simply piled into the car upon Race’s request and trusted his reasoning.  
Another drag, deeper than before, then, “I’m sick.”  
Albert froze, cigarette halfway to his mouth. Spot wordlessly dropped his own and stomped it out in the sand.  
“Lung cancer,” Even deeper drag, then a small cough, causing the other two men to wince, “Stage 4.”  
Spot felt lightheaded as overwhelming helplessness slowly crept through his body, turning his legs numb, “How long do you have?” the words sounded far away.  
“Two to four months,” Race stated, he flicked the now finished cigarette to the ground, “Without treatment.”  
Albert ditched his cigarette, suddenly feeling repulsed, “And with treatment?” he managed around the lump in his throat.  
“Six months to a year,” Race said. He was quiet for a moment, before letting out a dry laugh, “But what’s the point.”  
Spot and Albert couldn’t find it in themselves to smoke after that.  
XXX  
Spot sped down the road, away from the the hospital. Away from where Race was bedridden and barely responsive. Away from the sick smell of iodoform and latex.  
His grip around the wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white as he pushed harder on the gas. The engine whined in protest, but Spot ignored it. His entire body was numb, hot anger being the only identifiable feeling. His chest was heaving, lips pursed as he struggled to swallow down tears.   
It wasn’t fair. Race wasn’t allowed to be sick. They were supposed to get married, have kids, see the world. They all smoked, they all fucked up and made bad decisions, so why was Race the one who had to pay for it?  
Spot threw his car into park, slamming the door behind him as he stormed onto the sand, following the familiar path down to the water’s edge.   
The waves were crashing furiously upon the shore, rising and falling menacingly in the stark moonlight. As many times as Spot had been down there, he’d never gone without Race.  
It felt wrong being there alone. As though he were betraying Race in some way.  
He kicked at the sand, an angry growl ripping out of his throat as the wind blew it back in his face. He wiped his eyes furiously, trying to rid them of the sand.   
Everything felt like too much and he hastily ripped off his hoodie, throwing it to the ground. The soft thump of his sweatshirt against the ground was underwhelming, driving Spot to kick it away from him.   
Anger coursed through his veins. Raw grief and fresh fury driving his body to its limit. More sand was kicked, thrown, bashed at. Rocks and shells were pelted at the ocean. Splashes and shouts were lost to the sounds of the sea, which seemed to scream back at him with equal fervor.  
It almost sounded like the ocean was angry, too.   
Eventually, the anger dissipated and Spot collapsed at the shore line. Water pooled around him, soaking the bottoms of his jeans and seeping into his shoes. He reached into his pocket, extracting the ring box that he’d had for so long. He opened it, staring blankly at the ring inside. Race was still here, he could still do it. They could still get married. But, then what?   
The water seemed to pull back after that, the waves reverting to a gentle swell of the tide.  
And as the ocean gave up, so did Spot. The first tears fell in time with the current.  
XXX  
A bottle was clasped tightly in his hand. A headache was already poundly dully behind his eyes, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.  
Nausea gripped his stomach in an iron fist, causing bile to rise persistently in his throat, but he washed it back down with another swig of vodka. Or whiskey. He couldn’t remember which it was anymore, nor did he care.   
Albert grimaced as the last drop of alcohol burned his throat and he threw the bottle to the side. He could hear the glass shatter, but he couldn’t bring his mind to acknowledge it.  
The nausea returned and he leaned over, emptying the contents of his stomach into the sand next to him. He winced at the putrid smell and started to scoot away from his sick, but gave up when a dizzy spell threatened to drag him out of consciousness.  
Besides, if Race was sick, he shouldn’t be alone right?  
In the back of his mind, he was aware that he’d made a mess and a small flicker of guilt ignited in his gut.  
“Sorry for making a mess on your beach, Racer,” he slurred. But no voice answered. No one told him off, or scolded him, or called him a dumbass. Because the only person who would was in the hospital.  
Albert squinted out towards the ocean where he could see birds swooping low over the waves, gliding gracefully in line with each other. Everything was identical to how it was before Race got sick. Everything moved at the same routine. The tide still changed, the breeze still blew, the sun still rose in the morning and set in the evening.  
So why did it feel like something was missing? Even though Race was still alive.  
Albert fingered his bracelet mindlessly.  
Because it already felt like Race was gone.  
XXX  
Spot and Albert were both at the hospital when it happened.   
It was early in the morning, long before the sun would rise. Neither of them had been able to sleep after they got a call the night before that Race was having intense coughing fits. Even though he’d been coughing consistently since his diagnosis, something about the call felt disturbingly final and they’d rushed to the hospital.  
They feared what the night might bring, but dreaded the prospect of missing something.  
The nurse told them in a staged, sympathetic tone. She looked tired, apologetic, and Spot and Albert accepted her sympathetic shoulder squeezes.  
She brought them to Race’s room and allowed them to have their time with him. Albert brushed a hand over the white bracelet on Race’s arm, biting his lip before taking it off and pocketing it.  
Spot bent down, smoothing his hand through Race’s curls and kissing his forehead one last time. Albert could see his chest trembling, but his face was composed.  
They left after that, the silence a permanent fixture between them.

***

“Hey,” Spot felt Race’s hot breath against his chest and he opened his eyes, “I wanna show you something.”  
“What kinda something,” Spot asked, shifting so that Race was lying between his legs. He pressed a fond kiss to his neck, relishing the soft hum that left Race as he did so.  
“This cool little place down on the beach that I found a while back,” Race answered, “I don’t think anyone else knows about it. It’s really pretty.”  
Spot raised his eyebrows, “Sounds pretty cheesy to me.”  
Race flicked him in the ear, “Shut up,” he paused to kiss Spot briefly, “I think you’ll like it.”  
“Alright,” Spot said, flicking him back, “Show me your magic little cove, Princess.”  
“Asshole.”  
XXX  
“Racer, you missed the exit,” Albert shifted around in his seat, eyes trained on the stretch of road they were supposed to be on, “Aren’t we going to Denny’s?”  
“Yeah, yeah, we will,” Race said, a playful smirk on his face, “But I wanna show you something first.”  
“Show me something?”  
“Yeah, you’ll see. It’s like this little beach area. I’ve known about it for ages and I just showed Spot the other day,” He switched gears as he drove off the road and onto the sand that would lead to the public beach, but he continued on past the entrance, “I wanna show you, too.”  
Albert scoffed, “Aight, bro, whatever.”  
“Don’t whatever me,” Race said, shooting him a defensive glare, “It’s really cool. Completely mine.”  
“I’m excited to see it.”  
And he was.  
XXX  
Race watched his bare feet kick up sand as he trekked along the shoreline. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, but he was enjoying his afternoon of solitude.  
It had been awhile since he’d been in the presence of another person, but he couldn’t bring himself to be unsettled by this. There was something about being completely alone that was therapeutic.  
He trudged up a dune, only to realize that he didn’t recognize where he was. The marram grass was thicker here and he wove in and out of clumps of it until the landscape started to tilt down.  
Curious, he followed the path until he found himself in a small cove. Dunes surrounded him on all sides and if someone were to look out over the ocean from above, they’d miss this small strip of shore.  
He dropped his sandals by one of the dunes and padded over to the water, staring out over the horizon.  
No other voices interrupted his thoughts. No people were around to bother him or berate him in any way.  
He was completely at peace.  
He sat down, curling his knees up as he continued to absorb the scenery. Looking back, it seemed as though his footprints were the first. The place was completely untouched.  
He smiled to himself as a bizarre sense of ownership seemed to present itself to him. It was his beach now.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, chiefs  
> feedback is always appreciated


End file.
